Page 17 of For the Record
“I wouldn’t have asked you to marry me if I didn’t want to.”
A faint blush creeped up her cheeks. “Fair enough. You’re not freaking out about this as much as I need you to.”
How could I explain this without sending her running? Without making it sound like I was over my head in all of this? I didn’t mind being married to her because there was no one else I could ever be married to.
My eyes shifted from her ring to the floor. “It’s not exactly a secret that I don’t love…”
“People?” she cut in. “Human interaction? Accepting the fact that sometimes you have to talk to others in order to live?”
“Yes. But it’s…” I paused, searching for the right word and coming up short. “It’s different with you. It’s not like I was going to get married anytime soon. I’m getting too old to try the whole Tinder thing.”
She waved a hand. “That’s arguable. You could always try meeting a nice lady at Dad’s assisted living home.”
“Listen, smart-ass. I’m saying that if that’s what you want, then I’m fine with it. You could use the help with your dad, and I could use the extra money and the excuse to help me avoid being deployed too far and traveling so much. It’s fine.”
A lot of my coworkers were married, and although they were held to the same standards, it helped when push came to shove that I was the only single guy in our unit. If someone’s wife was having a baby, or their kid was suddenly not doing well, they would send me out first. I’d never cared before, but now I felt an urge to be grounded. Well, as much as they would let me.
Rachel sighed and looked down at her ring, twisting it around her finger. Then her face relaxed, like it had some kind of magical power to put her at ease. That alone also relaxed my shoulders. I grabbed her soft, dainty hand and pressed my thumb against her finger, just above the ring.
We’d be fine, because we’d be together. And that was enough.
Currently playing: Come on Eileen by Dexys Midnight Runners
***
My best friend was officially a published author. And an exceptional one at that.
Setting up her book signing at the record store hadn’t been easy. I’d spent the entire week convincing Arthur, the owner, to let me host it there for her. He felt like it would bring in a different crowd, but I reminded him of two things:
One: We had an entire book section to the side of the store.
Two: I was a mastermind at shining up a turd- as my Dad would say.
It still took rounds of convincing, but I eventually got him there when I assured him that we should receive extra sales from it. I was pretty sure he was getting desperate for traction at that point, and me mentioning potential sales was too tempting for him not to reach.
Therefore, I spent the last week or so making Sip ’n’ Spin (now heavy on the spin because our coffee machine hadn’t been working for the last couple of months) the perfect hangout for a book signing. Good thing too, because this big town had shown up for Layla. Calla and Crew helped by setting up balloon arches and signs while I spent the morning trying to keep Layla from panicking and ensuring she didn’t leave our apartment looking like a grandma bundled in her many cardigans.
I’d managed to get her into a pair of black tights and my form-fitting brown leather skirt with a black T-shirt tucked in. She was the perfect picture of sexy but classy. I felt like a proud pageant mom, ready to show off her kid everywhere and take all the credit.
It was a good night. I was dreading the end of it, and yet it was already flying by. Mostly because my hands had been kept busy all afternoon, refilling refreshments, straightening anything out of place, and keeping the never-ending line to my best friend going.
But despite my busy hands, my mind kept going back to seeing Adam leaned against a wall in the far corner of the store. Tattooed, broody, insane-to-look-at Adam, who I could not kick out of my brain tonight. I’d wondered, in the back of my mind, whether Luke’s family had planned to be here, specifically if Adam would be here. But it was Layla’s night, and she deserved my focus for as long as I could give it. Even so, I was still going to check out her almost brother-in-law from afar.
As I straightened a sign that was beginning to slip from its nail, Calla set a hand on my back. “Why don’t you get something to eat and let me handle things?”
My eyes trailed to the plate of appetizers that Crew had made, and my stomach growled, a deep ache pulling at me.
“You can rest. It’s almost over, and you’ve done an amazing job.”
I turned to Layla, who was sitting behind a table with Luke right behind her, smiling as she signed book after book.
“Okay. Yeah, I think I will.” I gave her an appreciative smile and grabbed a small plate, stacking it high and making my way straight to the grump.
Adam looked over at me, and I swore, for a millisecond, I saw the man smile.
Plopping my full plate on the tall table next to his empty one, I leaned in. “Nice to see you, grandpa sailor.”
“I am not a sailor,” he grumbled.